


Persuasion

by pastelwitchling



Series: Classics Collection [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Malex, Mentions of Violence, Sexual Content, Sexual References, and echo is in this but that's just a given, hints of maribel, malex short story, persuasion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwitchling/pseuds/pastelwitchling
Summary: Eight years after Alex is persuaded by his best friend, Maria DeLuca, to leave the man he loves, Alex returns to Paris at the request of his dearest friends from the past. There, Alex comes across the last person he had ever expected to see standing and talking before him again, the man he'd loved and left; Michael Guerin.
Relationships: Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Classics Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786372
Comments: 30
Kudos: 143





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally finished, days after I said I would. Sorry about that.  
> I will say, though, that this remains a short story, so there is a lot more focus on plot, though I did try to add as much complexity and layers to the characters as I could in these pages, keeping anything from seeming rushed. Persuasion is my favorite Jane Austen novel, and it means a lot that I finally got to write one of my favorite fictional couples ever in this world. I hope you have as much fun (and misery) reading it as I did writing it.  
> If you do, even a little bit, sharing the story is always so helpful, and would mean a lot.  
> Okay, enough of me. Proceed to the story ♥

Alex clutched the letter tightly in his hand, the breeze causing a ripple in the lake water, cutting through the thick fabric of his coat and chilling his bones. Or perhaps that was dread.

Alex sighed deeply, pulling his coat tighter around him. _It would be eight years ago today_ , he thought solemnly as the fishing boats along the docks bobbed in the water, the fishermen shouting out to each other as they delivered that morning’s fresh catch. Women leaning out of their windows called out to their husbands and sons, scolding their children for playing too closely to the water, and scolding their older daughters for wandering too closely to the sailors.

And yet there was a quietness that surrounded the small town. The air was clear as the waves lapped against the shore and the sides of the boats. Alex sat down along the splintered planks, and closed his eyes.

No sooner had he thought of Paris and its busy streets and crowded stores, of the city of love where he had ironically lost his love, that he felt something hard poke his back.

“Alex, on your feet,” his best friend, Maria DeLuca, scolded. She had a hand on her hip, her parasol at her side. “Those docks will _ruin_ your good clothes.”

The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up, and he forced himself to his feet, trying not to wince at the pressure on his leg. He stretched his arms above his head. “You came.”

“You asked me to,” Maria said, and her brown eyes glimmered as they caught the letter in Alex’s hand. “Who’s sending you letters and why?”

Alex turned back to Lake Geneva, stretching on as far as the eye could see. _There aren’t any oceans in Paris_ , he thought. It was just stone.

“Liz,” he explained. “She wants me at her side.”

“In Paris?” Maria asked, and Alex could _hear_ her frown. He nodded, and she came to his side. “Why on earth would you want to go to… to such a _dingy_ , crowded place?”

But Alex heard the shift in her tone; from scolding and appalled to dreading and wary. He had not been to Paris, after all, in eight years.

“Liz needs me,” Alex started, and Maria scoffed.

“Oh, I’m so sure she does. ‘Alex, come take care of my children for me, and humor my delusions! I know you will!’ That girl! Lord knows I love her, but _goodness_ , who ever allowed her to have young ones to take care of when she’s such a young one herself!”

Alex smiled softly as he looked out over the water. The surface shimmered as the sun rose, the clouds stretching across a pink and gold sky. This was something he would miss, admittedly. He would miss the smell of fresh produce in the morning, the kind faces as he strolled through the town. He would miss Yvoire, but Paris…

“I’m going,” Alex said.

Maria blinked. “You –” she came to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips. Fishermen watched her as they climbed their boats, but as usual, it was as if Maria could not see them. She was regal, a queen amongst the peasants around her, an angel amongst the humans. They couldn’t touch her, and they knew it, but seemed content to look.

“You most certainly are _not_!” she commanded.

“I’ve already told her I was coming,” Alex said with a small grin. “If I don’t show up, they’ll know you had kept me here.” But even as he said it, Alex’s heart weighed heavily. It was silly of him, he knew, to dread Paris so when… when _he_ surely couldn’t be there anymore. Still, the idea of walking the streets they had once walked together, eating at restaurants they had once shared, watching couples this way and that, pressed close together as they had once –

Alex pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as always. There was no point thinking of that now. After all, as he had reassured Maria too quickly after that day, things had ended in an irreparable sort of way between him and his teenage crush.

When Maria spoke again, her voice was soft. “But what about your father? Will he be happy about you leaving?”

Alex avoided her gaze. “My father will understand. I will make sure of it.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time, then Maria hooked her arm around Alex’s and said, “Well, then. I had my own business to conduct in Paris this month anyhow.”

Alex smirked. “Did you now?”

“Yes,” she said defiantly, as if daring him to argue with her. He did not. “I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in that dreadful, smelly city.”

“I expect so. For what meaning is there to my life without my Maria?”

Maria’s expression brightened, and she rested her head on his shoulder, holding his arm more tightly. The men watching seemed to deflate in that instance. _Ah well_ , Alex could almost hear them thinking, and might’ve laughed had the ever-present weight on his chest not seemed all the heavier in that moment.

_Fear not_ , he would’ve liked to tell them. _I cannot love her. For I have only ever loved once before, and fear I may never love beyond him._

“Paris, you say?” Alex’s father said quietly, his fingers interlocked in front of his face.

They sat at the breakfast table, their servant girl had been coming in and out to place plates of butter and bread, fruits and juice, and their pot of morning tea. Alex had waited until she was done to calmly declare that he was going to Paris, as if there was no argument about it. His brother, Flint, had cast him a wary glance, but Alex kept his eyes on his father.

He had explained that his friend Liz, a mother of two, had turned ill and had asked for him above all others. This argument seemed to do little to convince Jesse Manes that his son was required somewhere other than at his own side.

“Liz is in desperate wanting of help,” Alex explained, and felt his brother, Gregory, nudge his leg underneath the table as if suggesting he let this go. But he could not. He had refused Liz’s letters so often in the past, politely declined her offers to have him vacation in her new family home. She had been in Yvoire herself until she was married to the very rich tradesman, Max Evans. He had seemed kind enough until he’d taken Liz to Paris, the one place that Alex, for many years, could not return to himself.

His father looked at him with those piercing blue eyes, his voice dry as he said, “And _Liz_ is the only one you hope to see?”

“Father,” Flint tried.

“Silence, Flint,” his father commanded. His voice was calm and quiet, but sharp enough that Alex felt a shock run through his body, nearly forcing him to cower in his seat. He lay his hands on his lap, refusing to let them tremble. “A month in Paris, that is an awful lot of time alone, Alex. Are you certain there is no one else you plan to run into?”

Alex clenched his jaw. “He has been gone from Paris for years now,” he said. He never did say the man’s name. His father became blinded with rage at the sound of it, and was impossible to speak to. “He could not stand the sight of the city any more than I could.”

Gregory raised a brow. “Yet you wish to return?”

“I cannot keep from Paris all my life,” Alex defended. “It’s the city I was born in, the city I had once loved. It’s been eight years, enough is enough now. And the truth of it is, I do wish to see Liz again, for I have missed her dearly, and she cannot come to Yvoire, for a mother is a busy woman. My friend is ill, and needs me, and I must be there for her. There is no more to it than that.”

Jesse remained silent a moment, then, “No. You will stay here.”

Alex clenched his hands in his lap. “Father, she is in need of me –”

“Are the needs of your father not greater than those of your friend?” Jesse said sharply. “I think so.”

Alex stared. “Don’t make me say it.”

Jesse held his gaze. “Say _what_?”

“That if you do not allow this quietly,” he said in a voice barely over a whisper, “then all of Yvoire will know the kind of man you really are.”

Gregory’s eyes widened fractionally. “Alex –”

“I cannot _walk_ properly,” Alex said, unable to help the edge in his voice. “You know why, Gregory. Don’t get involved.” He turned back to his father once assured his brother will not say anything else. “I have remained silent for years, but no more. I wish to return to Paris, to see the city I love and the friends I love more, and you will not stop me. You will be gracious, and polite, and will send notice of how happy you are that your son is to be of use to someone other than yourself.”

As Jesse stared intently at him, Alex realized that his father was sizing him up, considering whether his son was worth his word, whether he could still beat him now at twenty-seven.

“You can’t,” Alex said, as if reading his father’s mind. He lowered his voice. “You have nothing left to threaten me with.”

That seemed to be the end of that. His father said nothing as he stood and left the room, seemingly calm except for the vein twitching in his forehead, but that did not stop Alex from calling for a carriage that afternoon. His things had already been packed in a trunk, and before he could believe it, he was on his way to Paris, unwilling to stay near his father any longer than he had to. Yes, he loved Yvoire, but Paris was his home, and being away from it had made him feel emptier and more and more lost for these past eight years. He knew, he just _knew_ , that if he were to return, he would finally feel at home.

It felt that the moment Yvoire had vanished, Alex’s carriage was shaking along the cobblestones of the Paris road. They had strolled through valleys and alongside rivers and pastures of sheep and horses, but quickly, the streets were filled with shops close together, printing presses, tall buildings with small flower gardens pressed against the white-painted railings, vines pouring through the bars. To either side, Alex spotted businessmen in their black coats and top hats, women in their designer dresses and girls with ribbons in their hair. There were no children playing on the streets here, for carriages overtook the cobblestones, but Alex passed a park where women, their infants in their arms, chatted amiably as their older children played together in the grass.

Through the window, Alex could smell freshly baked bread, cakes, cheese, beef, roasted chicken, and fish. In the distance, Alex could see the beginnings of a tower built in the streets. _La tour Eiffel_ , the papers had called it. Right now, it was no taller than two stories, though there were rumors that the engineer planned to raise it to the clouds. Alex couldn’t help himself; he grinned. It felt odd, and frightening, and so _wonderful_ being back in this city that had changed so much in eight years.

_Still…_

Alex could _still_ hear the echoes of laughter of two young men as they ran amongst the crowds, as they picked flowers from the gardens and made plans to own a flat of their own together. He sat back down in the carriage, letting the curtain fall over the window, hiding Paris from sight. _Later_ , he told himself as he leaned back, closing his eyes. He would explore the city later, rekindle the love he had for it. He _would_ grow to love his city again, but for now, he would rest.

It was long past nightfall when the Evans’ manor came into view; a mansion of white stone and grey roof tiles, surrounded by high green hedges, connected by a golden gate, with bushes of roses and lilies underneath the first-floor windows. There were stone steps leading to the perfectly trimmed gardens on either side, a small round table with chairs set on the right, a fountain beside it which held the marble statue of an angel, water pouring from its arrow and into the fountain below, and marble stairs leading up to the front doors of the manor itself.

Alex rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He thought he saw someone standing in the gardens, in the shadows, but perhaps it was just the groundkeeper? It was too dark to tell, but Alex could not help but take it all in. It had been so long since he’d last been here, knowing of the changes only by Liz’s letters.

Gold light poured from inside as a man stood at the door, his back straight, his hands behind his back. As Alex stepped out of his carriage, the man’s face broke into a grin as kind and welcoming as his eyes, and he hurried down the steps to greet his guest.

“Alex!” Max breathed almost excitedly as he took one of Alex’s hand in both of his and shook, strong enough to almost send the man toppling. Alex smiled despite himself.

“Hello, Max,” he said politely. Though he longed to return Max’s greeting with an embrace, for Max was as warm and genuine as he was honest and tall, he could not allow himself to do it. Ever since that day, eight years ago, when Alex had refused Max’s brother, he had decided that a respectful distance from the man’s family was only to be expected.

Max, of course, had never known about Alex and his brother, no one had – except for Maria – so when he was met with Alex’s cool greeting, his brows furrowed slightly, and he chuckled. “ _‘Hello, Max?’_ Come here, my dear friend, hug me!”

“Er –” Alex barely managed before he was pulled into a bone-crushing embrace.

Max pulled back, his hands on Alex’s shoulders. He regarded Alex strangely. “Are you all right? You seem to be limping.”

Alex tried not to let his expression change. “Merely the exhaustion. I have a cane here, though I prefer not to use it.”

“Nonsense,” Max said, his eyes filled with genuine concern. “Nothing to be ashamed of, a man using a cane to stand upright!” He looked to the side and his grin widened. His raised his hand to the figure in the shadows. “What’re you doing? Come say hello!”

Alex blinked. Was that man meant to be someone Alex knew? Did he know Alex? He couldn’t tell, for the darkness engulfed him and hid him from view. The mysterious man seemed to retreat further away before he turned a corner and disappeared.

Max sighed, his smile dimming. “Please forgive him, my dear Alex, he is much changed since… at any rate, I am sure you will meet sooner rather than later.”

Alex gave a small smile, his cheeks flushed. _It is probably best_ , he secretly thought. It was too late in the evening for him to seem very presentable to anyone, though he did not say so to Max. “How is Liz?”

Max huffed a chuckle, waving the question away, “My passionate wife is most upset. She claims she has been struck with fever.”

“Claims? You do not believe her?”

“She doesn’t have a high temperature, we’ve checked and checked. We’ve brought in the best doctors in town, and yet she insists she is fatigued.”

“Hmm,” Alex nodded, though this was not far from what he had expected. “Can I see her?”

“Of course, of course!” he gestured, and when Alex moved to retrieve his trunk from the carriage, Max took his arm. “No, my friend, I will have that up for you. I am, after all, your host here, though I do hope you take comfort as if this manor were your own home. You must go see Liz now for her anxiety will not calm until she’s seen that you have arrived.”

Alex was greeted most respectfully on his way up the long staircase, some of the servants, both men and women, grinned shyly as he passed and quickly hid from view. Alex blinked, confused, and quietly kept to himself as he reached the second floor. He breathed heavily and quietly, his fingers pressed into his right leg, speaking only to ask a red-faced maid for directions to Liz’s room.

“First room on the right, sir,” the maid said with a curtsey and scuttled off. _Oh dear_ , Alex thought as she hurried away. He hoped he hadn’t made her feel awkward.

He knocked on the first door, asked if he could come in, and was greeted with the sounds of excited screams as well as Liz’s familiar, muffled voice, “Is that you, Alex? Come in, come in quickly, so that I may see your face!”

Alex did as he was told, and was greeted with a small child with dark hair, nearly knocking him over. “ _Oh_ dear.” He held the struggling boy up, frowning. “You really mustn’t run into people, you know.”

“Alex,” Liz breathed, her forehead covered with a soaked white rag, so large it nearly hid half her face, her lips splitting into a wide grin when she saw him. “My dear friend, _Alex_ , is it really you?”

The girl who had been playing stopped at her mother’s side, her wide brown eyes on Alex. “He’s pretty, _maman_ ,” she whispered so loudly that Alex could hear.

Liz looked at her daughter with complete exasperation. “Aren’t you meant to be asleep by now? Greta? Greta!”

A blonde servant walked in then, glanced at Alex, and looked away, blushing. “Yes, Madame?”

“Send the children to bed, please,” Liz said.

“Oh I can help her with that –” Alex began, but Liz waved the offer away.

“No, I need you far more here, Alex,” she said, reaching her arms out to him. “Come, come to me, I’ve missed you.”

Alex let the servant lead the unwilling children out, both peeking over their shoulders to watch him. As soon as he was close enough to Liz’s bed, she took hold of his hands and closed the distance between them, holding him in a tight embrace.

“I can almost hardly believe you are here,” she confessed quietly, her voice cracking. Alex rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her tightly.

“My lovely Liz,” he said, and chuckled softly as he pulled back, wiping her tears. “Why on earth are you crying?”

Liz, who seemed to have been waiting for such a question, fell back against her pillows, the back of her hand impatiently pushing her dark hair back.

She sniffled. “I have been most unwell, my Alex, if only you knew.”

Alex hummed, pressed his fingers lightly to Liz’s forehead and cheeks. As he expected, there was no fever. He refrained from a smile.

“Max tells me you are feeling feverish?”

Liz huffed. “Yes, well, I _was_. And a terrible exhaustion, Alex, _terrible_ exhaustion has overcome me. I fear I have not the strength to leave this bedroom, and you know how I love to stroll through the town. Yet I cannot here, not now, you see, when I am so ill.”

Alex nodded gravely. “I see. You have suffered much then.”

Liz’s eyes glistened, her voice cracking at the gratitude. “ _Yes_. Yes, I have. I had no choice, you see, but to send for you, for I only trust you to help me with my children, though I know how deeply you love Yvoire, and am so very sorry to have taken you from it.”

Alex just opened his mouth to say that it was quite all right, more than all right, for he had been desperate for some excuse to return to Paris, but before he could manage it, Liz shook her head at the ceiling and spoke first.

“Though really, my dear, I don’t know how you can allow yourself to refrain from visiting your dearest friend, _especially_ after all of those letters I’ve sent you.”

Alex swallowed. “My father needed me at his side, though no longer.”

“Good,” Liz said. “That is to say, you know I don’t talk ill of anyone, my love, for that is simply not my way, but that father of yours has kept you at his side through the most ridiculous – if I may use that word, darling – of ailments. It’s high-time he learn to get on without you.”

Alex moved a strand of Liz’s dark hair behind her ear. “Quite right,” he said indulgently. “There are others, it appears, who rather require my assistance.”

“Indeed,” Liz said sternly, then seemed to remember that she was ill, and sighed most pitifully against her pillows. “Oh, Alex, my Alex, I am so fatigued.”

“I can see that, my love,” Alex said comfortingly, and raised the blankets to her shoulders. “I am here. Rest now, and in the morning, we will have breakfast together. Does that sound all right?”

Liz seemed to brighten with the prospect, then fell back with a soft ruffle of her blankets. “If I can bear to eat, that is,” she said most grievously. “I have not had the strength to eat these past few weeks. Think it could be influenza? I’ve read all about it, you know, and they say a loss of appetite is the first of the symptoms.”

“Oh dear,” Alex said, fixing her blankets again. “Well, never you mind, for breakfast tomorrow will be by _my_ hand.”

“Yours?” Liz said, her voice rising. “Are you perhaps speaking of your _pain au chocolat_? I still remember those from the days we were young!”

Alex smiled. “You are too kind.”

“But those take hours, don’t they?” Liz huffed. “It would be _noon_ by the time we’ve gotten to eat!”

“Which is why I will be waking before dawn to have them prepared. I will go speak to the cooks now, asking permission for the use of their kitchens. Unless you’d rather I stay with you?”

Liz looked conflicted a moment, her hand on Alex’s tightening, as if afraid he would vanish if he left the room. Alex tried not to sound the crack in his own voice, the burn in his eyes. _If only they knew_ , he thought. If only they knew that he had never wanted to be apart from them, never truly. If only they knew how dearly he had missed them, how much he had suffered himself.

_No_ , Alex warned. He could never speak of it, could never speak of the truth, the real reason he had left Paris at all, the real reason he had stayed away. That was the past, and it was over. It would do nothing now but cause more pain and regret, and he was so very tired of pain and regret.

“No, no,” Liz finally said, though she now took Alex’s arm in both hands. “No, you have had a long journey, I know. _I_ , of course, have suffered _weeks_ of this ailment, but still, you must rest. I will see you in the morning.”

“The morning,” Alex assured her, and with a kiss to her forehead (“I am warm, am I not?” she asked and Alex, without answering, ruffled her hair as he used to do when they were children, and thought it best to let her think as she would like to), he left the room. He leaned against the wall next to the white door and took a deep breath.

Resolute, he nodded once, and pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the kitchens. The cooks and servants had all been so kind in allowing him the space in the morning, and Alex thanked them politely before asking where he was meant to stay. A male servant, probably nineteen or so, led him to the room prepared, all the while stealing glances at him when he thought Alex wasn’t looking.

The room was grander than his own in Yvoire, the marble floor covered in pastel rugs, the curtains white, pulled back to reveal the night sky and a small balcony outside his window. The stars shined in the sky, and in the distance, Alex saw, not Lake Geneva, but the city of Paris.

Knowing he had an early rise ahead of him – he was glad for it, to know that he was of some use already here, to know he was earning his place and not simply lounging about – he stripped himself of his coat, his buttoned-up shirt and his trousers, and dressed in his nightclothes. He had barely pulled the thick peach coverlet back from his bed before he heard a soft knock at the door.

Alex blinked. Did Max hope to inquire after Liz’s health? He quickly pulled a coat on, and opened the door to find – no one. Alex stepped out, took one look up and down the hall, but there wasn’t the sign of a single person.

Perhaps a servant had accidentally knocked, thinking the room was empty, then remembered it wasn’t, and left in a hurry? With a shrug, Alex stepped back inside, and slipped into bed.

He closed his eyes, the sounds of carriages and crowds chattering heard even in the dead of night. He did not sleep.

When it was time to wake, Alex rose heavily from bed, rubbing his eyes. He welcomed the cold water from the basin with which he washed his face. It woke him properly. He dressed and quietly stepped out, making his way downstairs. For a moment, he thought he heard a door open, and looked over his shoulder to see if he’d woken anyone. He was thankful he hadn’t as the hall remained in silent shadows.

He stretched his arms above his head, and came into the kitchens with the ingredients for breakfast at the forefront of his mind. He pulled an apron around his waist, and had no trouble at all finding the butter, chocolate, milk, and eggs. When it came to the flour, however, he struggled.

The servants’ door suddenly swung open and a tall man with a candle stepped in, his dark eyes widening when he saw Alex. He was holding a wooden spoon in hand.

“Who’re you?” the man demanded. “What’re you doing in my kitchen?”

Alex blinked, an uncomfortable heat crawling up his neck and cheeks. The man was handsome, and Alex felt a little silly in his apron, but what’s more – he hated meeting new people. It was a most unpleasant experience, for everyone always seemed to find Alex lacking in comparison to his brothers. His brothers, he reminded himself, who were not here.

“Er – Alex Manes,” he said, bowing slightly in greeting. “My – my name is Alex Manes. I am –”

“Alex Manes?” the man demanded, his eyes widening slightly. “The _guest_ , Alex Manes?”

Alex looked around awkwardly, then nodded. Remembering his manners, he spoke, “I suppose so. Although, I had been hoping to make breakfast my first morning here, Liz was so hoping for it.” Realizing he sounded a little arrogant, he added, “I – er – did take permission, of course. I am sorry, I did not realize I had overstepped my bounds –”

“ _Overstepped_ –” the man seemed to realize he was still holding the spoon, and put it down, looking horrified. “Dear me, I – oh goodness, _of course_ it would be me who made a fool of himself in front of the highly-esteemed guest. And so _kind_ you are, too! Well, I am a proper wanker, aren’t I? Er – sorry! I’m Kyle Valenti, sir, you can call me Kyle. So sorry for my language! I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, and Alex began to calm himself, realizing the both of them were quite hopeless around new people, and finding comfort in that.

He smiled. “It’s quite all right,” he said. “Please, don’t concern yourself with it. Er – if you don’t mind though, just pointing me in the direction of the flour, and I promise to keep silent in my work.”

Kyle straightened, indignant. “Your _work_? Leave you alone to prepare breakfast?! Well, I never heard of such a thing, sir! No, I will be quite happy to help you!”

“There’s really no need for it,” Alex tried, but Kyle was already strapping an apron around his own waist. “I can quite manage on my own.”

“You can, it does not mean you should,” he said. “At any rate, I welcome the distraction for I cannot sleep.”

Alex watched as Kyle pulled a few bowls and whisks out, as well as a big bag of flour. There were dark circles evident around his eyes, he seemed to be blinking hard to keep them open, and Alex realized that Kyle was lying. He clearly _had_ been asleep, but was forcing himself to stay awake to help Alex make breakfast.

Alex swallowed and looked away when he realized he’d been staring. In reality, it could be that Kyle had wanted to wake at this moment anyway to prepare the food himself, and Alex was surprised to find that he was not as uncomfortable working at this man’s side as he tended to be around strangers.

When the sky began to lighten to pale blue, the _pain au chocolat_ was already in the oven, and Kyle was telling Alex silly stories that had happened in the kitchens during a particularly grand feast a few months prior. Alex laughed, and they heard the door swing open.

Alex turned to greet whoever had come in, expecting to see Max or perhaps Liz or one of the servants, but instead was greeted with honey eyes and gold curls and a smirk he thought he would never see again.

His laugh died quickly, and he did not realize he had fallen against the counter for leverage until he felt the corners dig into his spine.

“Apologies,” the beautiful man said, his voice dark and menacing as he ran a hand through his curls. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Alex breathed, his voice so quiet he wondered if anyone had heard him. Michael, it seemed, might not have as his eyes went to Kyle, then back to Alex, his gaze darker than Alex remembered.

“Good morning, sir,” Kyle said somewhat glumly as if upset that Michael had not only woken, but that he was the first person he had had to encounter in the morning. Alex didn’t quite know how he felt, for he still struggled to believe it was Michael – once _his_ Michael – standing before him.

“Alex,” Michael said, ignoring Kyle completely, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“You’re here,” Alex could only say, and he thought he saw something in Michael’s expression flicker, but it was gone in an instant. Alex thought he might’ve imagined the change.

Alex was aware of Kyle looking from one to the other, but he could not move his eyes from Michael. The man wore a white button down, his coat a deep blue. He looked as handsome as Alex remembered, and despite the time between them – so _long_ a time – he found himself resisting the urge to jump into Michael’s arms and bury his face in the crook of the man’s neck. He wanted to touch him as he used to, to _kiss_ him, to be touched and kissed and loved _by_ him.

But the look in Michael’s eyes was not loving, was not yearning. It was dark, and cold, and the gold specs that danced across the green no longer shone – as if someone had dimmed those lights long ago.

No, the look in Michael’s eyes was certainly not one that said, _I’ve missed you_ , not as Alex felt. It was something Alex could only associate with hatred, hatred for _him_.

 _That’s not right_ , he thought. That could not be right. It was too dark to tell, he was exhausted, he was misreading the cruel tilt of Michael’s lips, as if _reveling_ in Alex’s distress at seeing him again. It wasn’t true, Alex told himself. Yet Alex stepped back.

Michael followed his movements, and his jaw clenched.

“Hang on,” Kyle said. “Do you two know each other?”

Alex thought Michael must’ve been a regular guest here if a servant was so familiar with him. That, or perhaps Michael just lived here, and suddenly, the prospect of staying a month in Paris was no longer as appealing as it had been.

 _And yet…_.

“Er –” Alex started, not knowing exactly what he would say, when Michael came around the counter and poured water into a glass cup from the ceramic jug.

“Us?” Michael grinned at Kyle as if he thought of him foolish for asking such a question. “How could we? Look at us, you could already tell we’re nothing alike.”

Alex felt a needle prick his heart and he looked away at the familiar words that had once left his own lips. This seemed to have been the reaction Michael had intended to cause as he straightened, puffing his chest out proudly. Proud of Alex’s shame.

“ _Pain au chocolat_ ,” Michael noted after he had his water and came to stand at the door. His eyes lingered on the oven, then he looked at Alex, and shrugged a shoulder, saying something that should not have hurt as much as it did. “Never did like them.”

And he left. _Never did like them_ , he had said, even after the countless hours Alex had spent in their youths making them for him. Even after nights of chocolate on their bodies, licked off through giggles and breathy moans. Even after he’d once told Alex he would marry him for his baking alone.

 _Never did like them._ Alex had known that if he had ever come face to face with Michael again, it would be painful. He would suffer, the past a constant torment and a cause for his misery in the present. He just never expected every word to be a wound to his chest.

“ ‘Nothing alike,’ indeed,” Kyle muttered indignantly and made a _hmph_ sound. “No, you are not, are you? For you are very kind, anyone can tell just by looking at you, sir, while _he_ is very much not! He thinks he is so grand for having been made Captain of the _La Royale_ , _well_ – there is more to a man than his rank!”

“Captain, eh?” Alex said quietly with a sad smile. He’d known, of course he’d known, through Liz’s letters that her husband’s closest friend – almost his brother – had become Captain. As he had always promised he would be.

“ _Oui, c’est vrai_ ,” Kyle grumbled, “And never a more bitter one, if you ask me. Nothing pleases him, _nothing_.”

“Don’t say such a thing,” Alex said, his voice hollow, though he hoped he seemed light and unaffected enough for Kyle’s benefit. He would hate to cause the people of this house any discomfort because of his own decisions made years ago. And in any case, he could not stand a bad word spoken against Michael, whether the man was his or not. “He cannot be so bad. I believe it.”

“You are _too_ kind, sir,” Kyle resigned with a shake of his head.

_If only they knew_ , Alex thought once again, how very much he was not kind. Not kind at all.

When the bell had rung for breakfast, Kyle shooed Alex from the kitchens despite his insistence to help.

“Go on now,” Kyle said. “Go sit with the Madame, Lord knows she’s been raving about you for weeks. I expect she’ll want you at her side.”

Kyle, of course, was right, for the moment Alex stepped into the dining room, Liz’s eyes fell to Alex and she groaned with relief, as if he’d been missing for days and hadn’t told her only the night before that he would be up early to prepare breakfast.

“There you are!” she hurried to his side, took his hands in hers, and held them tightly. “I came by your room and could not find you. I was so worried you’d left again!”

“Does he do that often?” Alex heard as he was about to answer, and his voice was caught in his throat as Michael stepped into the room, fixing his sleeve.

_So he wasn’t just a dream_ , Alex thought as he watched Michael take a seat without so much as sparing him a glance.

Michael smirked over his shoulder at Liz. “Leave, I mean?”

Liz rolled her eyes, and led Alex to the opposite side of the table, unknowingly placing him across the man he was trying to avoid himself. But how could Alex tell her that? How could he explain to Liz that the moment Michael had left the kitchens, Alex had been unable to focus almost at all? Had been unable to engage in conversation with Kyle as he was constantly swept away in his own thoughts and memories?

He couldn’t, so he sat down, his hands folded tightly in his lap, his eyes on the white tablecloth in front of him.

“Ignore Michael, Alex,” Liz said with a wave of her hand as she sat beside him. “He’s dreadfully unpleasant in the mornings.”

“And the afternoons,” someone suddenly said, and Alex looked up to find Isobel Evans standing against the door frame, her head held high as her blonde strands curled perfectly against the nape of her neck. “And the evenings. He has a few minutes during midday when he’s quite tolerable, but if you blink, you’ll miss it.”

She said this last bit with a smile as she came around to hug Alex. “My great friend,” she whispered against his shoulder, laughing as Alex picked her off the ground. It added extra weight to the leg that had already been paining him since having gotten out of bed, but as Isobel’s beautiful smile widened, her blue eyes that much brighter when he set her down, he found himself unable to care.

“All right, all right,” Liz said irritably, lightly slapping Isobel’s hand away from him. “Don’t suffocate the man, let him eat. Speaking of, brother, did you make your _pain au chocolat_?”

Isobel’s eyes widened. “You had him _prepare breakfast_ on his first morning here?”

Liz pouted, her cheeks pink. “He offered! _Insisted_! Try as I might, I could not persuade him against it! Do you suggest that it was best I had refused his first request?”

“God forbid,” Michael muttered, pulling the embroidered napkin from the table onto his lap as Kyle and the other servants brought out the food.

“God forbid what?” Max asked as he stepped in, fixing his collar. “Alex!” his grin widened. “Did you sleep well?”

Alex smiled politely. “Very well, thank you.” His eyes followed Isobel as she took her seat between Max at the head of the table, and Michael beside her, and he caught the look on Michael’s face. The Captain was staring at Alex with an expression that Alex found, even after all this time, he could read. He _knew_ Alex was lying, and before Alex could read anymore, Michael looked away with a shrug.

“You will have to forgive me, Alex,” Michael said, and Alex tried to ignore the shock that went through his body at the sound of his name on Michael’s lips. The lips that had once muttered those words against Alex’s neck, his naked shoulders, his own lips –

_Stop it, stop it, stop it_ , he silently warned himself, his nails digging crescents into the back of his hand.

“I’m sure you’ve worked very hard,” Michael went on, heedless of the struggle in Alex’s mind, “but I despise chocolate.”

Isobel frowned at him. “Since when?”

“It is not the mere _pain au chocolat_ Alex has prepared,” Kyle said as he set long dishes of bread and butter and cut fruit before them. “He’s made fresh-squeezed orange juice, he’s baked the bread fresh, and he’s kept the milk on ice to keep it cold. This entire breakfast is courtesy of our guest.”

“Really?” Max smiled proudly. “What a lad! You never had to do that!”

“He knows how much I love freshly-squeezed orange juice,” Liz said, then put a hand on Alex’s arm. “They were _clean_ oranges, weren’t they? I’ve been reading about adult intestinal worms, you know, and they can come from anything.”

“They come from _raw pork_ , sister,” Isobel said as she filled her own glass. “Tell me, have you been eating any raw pork as of late?”

“They put pork in _everything_ nowadays,” Liz started worriedly. “Don’t they?”

But Alex was not paying attention to them. His attention, instead, was on Michael who was staring at the dishes as if they had personally wronged him, the chocolate croissants as if they were poison, before he slowly set his fork and knife down and dabbed at his untouched lips with his napkin.

“Michael?” Max asked as his brother stood. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he said before stepping out through the open doors.

Max glanced at Alex, and Alex caught his eyes. The older man sighed, his smile returning as he offered his guest a bread roll. “Go on, my friend, eat. Lord knows he’s angry every waking moment. Nothing much to do about it, I’m afraid.”

“And what of me?” Liz asked indignantly. “Must I not eat as well? Is my health of so little value?”

“Of course, darling.”

Michael stormed into his room and barely refrained slamming his door behind him. The floral-patterned armchair was turned towards the fireplace. It was where Michael usually sat to calm himself down, to think clearly when memories of _him_ engulfed his being.

But Michael couldn’t sit down, not now when having seen Alex so close, when having caught his scent of wood and sugar, when having seen his shy smile – the one Michael had once kissed so desperately in the past. Michael gripped the windowsill tightly, staring out onto the grounds and not seeing anything at all.

It wasn’t the smile Michael had privately known of Alex, the wide, free, _joyous_ smile he’d been privileged to, but it still had Michael’s heart racing in his chest. He had wanted in that moment to take hold of Alex, and only by digging his nails into his thighs did he manage to keep himself from doing it.

_“How could we ever be together? We’re nothing alike.”_

Michael shut his eyes tight. Eight years since he’d seen Alex, eight years of remembering the words the man he’d loved had used to separate them, of remembering the cold look in Alex’s eyes before he’d turned away from them and all of their plans. Quickly, Michael’s love had turned to grief, and his grief turned to resentment.

_And yet…_

He had gotten word that Alex would be returning to Paris, and he hadn’t been able to resist coming down to see him. He’d hidden in the shadows and had almost been exposed, but he had wanted to see Alex. He wanted to see if the man was as broken and miserable as Michael himself felt. But he was as beautiful and put together as always. Michael had almost wanted to step out of the darkness, to touch him, if only to see if Alex still leaned into his hand like he used to, if he curled against him as he used to… if he would fall apart at the pain of it all.

_Foolish_ , Michael thought. How could he be anything else when he had expected Alex to be as pained as he? And still Michael had wanted to see him closely. He’d knocked on Alex’s door once he was certain the man had gone to his room, and stayed awake, sitting against the wall outside Alex’s door as he slept. At least, Michael had _thought_ Alex was sleeping. He soon heard footsteps inside, and had hurried into his room across the hall. He couldn’t help but follow Alex to the kitchens and listen to him work, and when he’d seemed to have such a good time talking to Kyle, Michael hadn’t been able to resist stepping in. The look on Alex’s face had been a satisfying one, the hurt that flashed in his expression when Michael had repeated his same words to him was momentary, but had definitely been there.

And Michael hadn’t felt guilty for it, he told himself. Not guilty at all.

There was a soft knock at his door, and it pained Michael that he could recognize the sound of footsteps, the careful, polite knock even before the man on the other side spoke.

“Michael,” Alex said, and Michael’s eyes fluttered, fire coursing through his body in an instant at the sound of Alex’s voice. “May I come in?”

Michael stood, straight and composed, before he said, “You may.”

The door opened slowly, as if Alex was expecting Michael to suddenly push him out and tell him he was joking, that he would never have allowed Alex near him.

Alex opened the door to reveal a plate in his hand with bread rolls, some eggs, and strawberries and grapes. All of Michael’s favorites.

“I said I wasn’t hungry,” he said.

Alex looked at him as though urging him to drop the act. “Hate me if you will,” he said, and Michael swallowed hard. “But don’t keep yourself from eating. You’ll only make yourself ill.”

He set the plate on a nightstand, and remained by the door, looking everywhere but at Michael. Alex, he realized, was just as nervous as he was. Except that Alex seemed to have an overwhelming layer of exhaustion that threatened to engulf everything else, and Michael, despite himself, felt a stab of concern for him. He wanted to run across the room, to hold Alex close and kiss his worries away, to rake his fingers through Alex’s dark, soft hair, to tell him he would always protect him. But he didn’t. He _couldn’t_.

“When did you return to Paris?” Alex asked, and Michael shrugged.

“Only a month ago. I am to remain for the rest of the summer, and then –”

“Then you leave,” Alex finished quietly.

Michael stared. “Why? Impatient for it?” Alex looked up, and Michael was painfully reminded of the way Alex’s eyes turned to green and gold when hit by sunlight. “Did you ever think of us?” he finally asked, desperate for the answer. “These past eight years? At all?”

Alex’s jaw visibly clenched, but he looked away and said nothing. Michael’s hands tightened to fists. He nodded, smirking, “Neither did I. Though I suppose I should thank you,” he said, and at Alex’s confusion, clarified, “Leaving me was the greatest gift you could’ve given me.”

Alex caught his gaze then, a fire sparking in the beautiful brown, and Michael felt a surge of excitement go through him. _This_ was the Alex he knew, the Alex he’d always known. Polite and kind and proper, but he had a passion he so rarely showed, less rare around Michael – that was how Michael had known he was once special to the man; he had always been allowed to see that passion more than anyone else could ever dream of.

“Really?” Alex said, his lips pursed. “Because I was told you’ve been rather bitter and angry these past eight years.”

“I’ve always been bitter and angry.”

“Not the Michael I knew.”

“The Michael you knew no longer exists,” Michael said fiercely. “This Michael is successful, not the failure your _friend_ so easily persuaded you to leave behind.”

Alex seemed to have nothing to say to this, and Michael found himself less satisfied and more agitated by it. _Fight back_ , he silently pleaded. _I am no mere relative or friend, don’t be proper with me now. Fight back, Alex._

“You’re right,” Alex said solemnly, and Michael’s heart fell at the resignation in his voice. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

As he turned, Michael found himself taking a step towards him. _No_ , he thought. He felt anger rising in his chest. So solemn, so graceful, _so polite_. It drove Michael mad. _You are not going to leave me like this. Not again._

Michael made it across the room in but a few strides, took Alex’s arm and turned him around, pushing him against the wall.

Without word or warning, he closed the distance between them, and hungrily took Alex’s lips in his. Alex was startled against him, frozen, and for a moment Michael feared the man would shove him away with disgust, but then he melted into Michael’s hold, his hands coming around Michael’s back. Michael’s eyes, despite his best efforts, fluttered shut. The kiss was everything he remembered, everything he had dreamt of for eight years. He tilted his head, devouring Alex’s mouth, his tongue tasting Alex’s.

He remembered a time, long ago, when Alex had come to him in tears but would not tell him why. He had begged Michael to kiss him, to hold him tightly, and Michael did more than Alex had asked. He had kissed along his body, had thrusted so deeply that Alex could hardly speak, let alone think. He had held Alex so tightly he left bruises along his perfect smooth skin. Michael pushed Alex so roughly against the wall that there was no space for parchment between them. He harshly ran his fingers through Alex’s hair – it was as soft as he remembered.

He was just putting a hand up Alex’s shirt, and the man released an involuntary moan. The fire in Michael’s body turned hotter, begging him to get closer, to uncover more skin, to kiss Alex more deeply. But he forced himself back, his hand on Alex’s jaw tight, holding him in place as he held his hazed gaze with a steadiness he did not have.

“Look at me,” he said darkly, “and tell me if you see anything.”

Alex’s brows furrowed, his expression cleared. He, it seemed, understood Michael as perfectly as always. _Tell me if I look affected by our kiss, tell me if it looks like you still mean anything to me. I feel nothing. You are_ nothing _to me._

Alex exhaled a sharp breath, disbelief clear in his eyes. He flinched away from Michael, and Michael fought against every fiber in his body that yearned to hold Alex and tell him it was a lie.

“You,” Alex breathed, his shock turned to disgust and misery. He shook his head, his eyes falling away from Michael’s. “You were right. The Michael I knew is not here.”

Alex turned away from him and left without another word, and Michael was left staring at the place he had been standing only a moment ago, in his arms. The look of pain on Alex’s face, Michael realized with a strange numbness in his fingers and lips, had not been as satisfying as he’d hoped.

Another sleepless night of staring at the ceiling. Alex sighed, turning his face into the pillow. _Maybe_ , he thought, _I’ll manage to suffocate myself, and then I won’t have to see him again tomorrow._

Alex scolded himself. This was only what he deserved, for he had been as cruel as Michael had, had coldly turned him away as tears had fallen down his face. Alex’s eyes burned as he recalled, as he always did, the memory of the love of his life, crying and begging Alex to stay with him.

_“I’ll be a great Captain one day, I promise you! I will take care of you! You and I belong together, Alex, we_ must _be together, for I cannot_ be _any other way!”_

_“You and I together? We are nothing alike, Michael. I will only suffocate under the weight of your fantasies and dreams. We both will.”_

Alex clutched the pillow tighter, his hand on his chest. _It had to be done_ , he reminded himself. _It_ had _to be done… and Michael can never know why._

“Sleep now, Alex,” he whispered to himself, repeating the words his mother used to whisper when he’d wake because of nightmares, his eyes shut tight as he willed himself to drift away. “Sleep, silly boy. Enough of your wanderings.”

Alex, in the end, could not sleep a wink. He lay staring at the birds fluttering about on the tree branches outside for what must have been half an hour before he heavily pulled himself out of bed. No point trying any longer.

He dressed and could’ve sworn that as he did, he heard someone walking outside his bedroom, but when he stepped out into the corridor, he saw no one. He pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes. Perhaps the exhaustion was getting the better of him after all.

As he made his way down the hall, he lightly touched his fingers to his lips where Michael’s had been pressed only yesterday. His eyes burned, and he let his hand fall away. He found Michael standing by the window in the dining room, and stopped. He turned to leave before the man could spot him, but before he made it out, Kyle suddenly appeared in the doorway with a large fish in his arms, its round dead eye staring at Alex.

“Alex!” Kyle said rather loudly, and Alex _felt_ Michael’s eyes turn to him. Kyle was grinning widely, seemingly unaware of the thick tension in the room. “Good morning!”

“Er – good morning, Kyle,” Alex said, trying not to laugh (for Kyle’s cheerful smile was so contagious) and avoid the fish’s eye at once, though it appeared to be staring into his very soul. “Oh my – er – so sorry for the question, must seem silly, but… you are aware you’re carrying a very large fish, aren’t you?”

Kyle laughed, holding the fish higher. “Of course! I’m to take it down to the kitchens to put on ice for today’s dinner. You can wait here for me, if you’d like! I’ll get it cooled, and take you down to the gardens. That’s where everyone’s having their morning tea.”

“The gardens,” Alex said, the idea of being out by the flowers, the crystal water, the amount of space between him and Michael – all very appealing. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”

“No need, Kyle,” Michael drawled, but Alex did not turn to look at him. “I can lead Alex to the gardens, and –”

“Very kind of you, Michael,” Alex interrupted, unable to help the tightness in his voice. _This was the way it had to be._ “But I would actually very much like to see the kitchens properly in the morning. I’ve only ever seen them at night. Would you mind, Kyle, if I were to accompany you to put the fish on ice?”

Kyle blinked, the tension in his shoulders as Michael spoke fading and replaced now with a pleased expression. His cheeks were dusted pink as he nodded, though Alex pretended he didn’t notice. “Certainly, yes. Come along, then, after me.”

He led the way out, and without sparing Michael a glance, Alex followed.

“Then…” Alex asked as he and Kyle made their way outside, “you’ve been here for five years? No wonder you seem to know Michael so well.”

Kyle flushed angrily, though as both their cheeks were red with laughter, it made little difference to his appearance. “My first week here, in fact, I had gotten to know the kind of man Michael was. Always angry for one reason or another. At first, dear me, I thought he was just a miserable creature, for there were instances he seemed so sad, you could see it in everything from the way he stood to the words he used. But if anyone dared ask him, he would snap and be angry once again. It was pointless, trying to reason with him.”

Alex tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. He could not manage it. “You are very familiar with the family. More familiar than I am, I’m afraid.”

They went onto the steps leading to a small table where everyone, including Michael, was gathered. “Don’t despair at having been away, Alex,” Kyle said. “You are as dear to these people as one of their own, just as Michael is, for you know he is not Max and Isobel’s brother, yet that does not make the slightest difference. You are family, as Michael is, if you will allow me to speak out of turn.”

Alex smiled, for he could not help it. Kyle was so kind, as if he’d known Alex his entire life, and despite the conflict he felt in his heart at seeing Michael, at being in the same house as the Captain, he could not help but feel a sense of security and happiness to have Kyle with him. Truly, he had made a wonderful friend.

“Look at your faces, as red as tomatoes,” Max said good-naturedly. “What _were_ you doing in the kitchens?”

Michael, who was not sitting at the white table, stood with a scoff as Alex took his own seat, as far away from him as possible. “Talking,” he said.

“Max is right,” Liz muttered worriedly as she tilted Alex’s chin up. “You do look _awfully_ red –”

“Well, actually, Liz my darling, I was only –”

Liz gasped, dropping her hand. “Could it be Scarlet Fever? You’re so warm!”

“He’s not warm,” Isobel said with a glare.

“I’m not warm,” Alex reassured her.

“You are, you are! Oh quick, Max, you must send word to the doctor at once!”

“Will do, darling,” Max said calmly as he took a sip of his tea.

“He’s not,” Michael said with a groan as he stretched his legs on the fountain. “He’s as cold as ice, believe me.”

The water falling from the angel’s arrow glistened like crystals in the sunlight, reflecting in Michael’s dark amber eyes and turning them gold. They felt like daggers in Alex’s heart.

Max frowned at his brother. “No need to sound so exasperated. It is not weakness to be afraid of illness.”

Liz held her head higher. “At any rate, it means you are more educated than those around you, for you can spot symptoms much quicker.”

“No,” Isobel said as she broke a biscuit in half. “It means you are weak-willed, for if you believe whatever you read and hear, then you have no firm opinions of your own.”

Liz flushed. “You can’t argue with scientific fact, Isobel! There’s _research_ done on diseases, proven theories!”

“I agree with Isobel,” Michael said with a glance at Alex that Alex could not miss. “There’s nothing I despise more than a weak will.”

“Michael,” Max warned, and Michael waved him off.

“Oh I’m not talking about _you_ , Liz,” he said. “If anything, you’re just obsessive, but then again, who isn’t? Not to mention, you’re so small it’s almost adorable at times. You know, when it’s not terribly irritating.”

“ _Michael_ –"

“No, I simply thought it was an interesting topic. What is the strongest force in the world? The one thing worth fighting for?”

“Money,” Isobel said, her lips pursed.

“ _Love_ ,” Liz said, her warm gaze on Max. Alex might’ve envied them if he wasn’t filled with more dread at what he knew Michael would say.

“And yet, what if one were persuaded to walk away from love? What if one’s dependence is so great that it overpowers love? What do you call such a will then?”

“Michael,” Max said, his smile gone. “Is there need for this?”

Isobel seemed to think of this, then, “Strength? If love is so grand, must you not be strong to turn away from it?”

“ _No_ ,” Michael growled, and everyone but Alex seemed startled at the fierceness in his voice. “I call it _weakness_. When a man cannot make his own mind, but his mind is forged by the words of others… it is _pathetic_ , is it not –”

Michael’s words cut off then, for Alex abruptly stood, his teacup clattering on its coaster. Michael was watching him with wide eyes, as if he had not expected Alex to let anyone know he was bothered by his words.

Alex choked back his tears and quietly said, “I will check on the children,” before he walked off, away from them, away from Michael.

The exhaustion, as well as being on his feet all morning, intensified the pain in Alex’s leg so that by the time he reached the sitting room where the children were seated, his eyes burned and he felt himself unable to walk.

He collapsed into an armchair, the children staring at him as if he was a beautiful flower, but they were uncertain whether or not he would be poisonous to the touch. The girl stopped playing with her dolls, and, against the scolding of her tutor, went to Alex’s side. She regarded him curiously, her hair pulled back from her face with a pink ribbon.

“Are you a prince?” she finally asked.

“Hush now, child,” her tutor scolded. “Do not bother the guest. I am so sorry, Mr. Manes.”

Alex could only shake his head. He feared his voice would crack if he spoke.

He lifted the girl and placed her on his lap, holding her weight on his left leg so that his right could rest. When he had managed to swallow past the lump in his throat, he said, “Funny. I was just about to ask you if you were a princess.”

The girl blushed, and her brother scoffed. “He’s just being polite, Lilian. No one thinks you’re _really_ a princess.”

Lilian glared at her brother. “Aden’s just jealous,” she whispered to Alex. “Before _you_ came along, Uncle Michael would talk to him all the time. Now all he does is talk about _you_.”

“Oy!” Aden snapped. “How do you know that?! Were you eavesdropping on us again?!”

Lilian turned away with a _hmph_. “ _I_ didn’t need to, you cry about it enough to father! The whole house can hear you!”

“Emily,” Michael suddenly appeared at the doorway, leaning against it, appearing to be unperturbed, though Alex did not miss the tension in his shoulders and the tight set of his smirk. “Do take the children to their rooms now, why don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily said and stood, leading both children out. “Come along, you two.” Lilian waved over her shoulder at Alex, and Michael ruffled Aden’s hair, before they were both out, and Alex was left alone with the man he’d been trying to avoid.

Michael checked the hallway, and came into the sitting room, closing the door behind him.

Neither of them said anything for a long time, then, “Is there something wrong with your leg?”

Alex did not look at him. “Hm?”

“Your leg,” Michael said. “You were limping. I thought I had imagined it the night you arrived, but every time you walk, it’s as if it pains you.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “The night I arrived? I didn’t see you the night I arrived.”

Something flashed in Michael’s eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. _Oh_ , Alex realized. Michael had come to see him. Alex thought of the man Max had wanted to greet him at the front door, the man who had retreated into shadows. How long had Michael been out there? he wondered. Waiting for him to arrive?

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, and Alex looked up, frowning. “For yesterday. That was… inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate,” Alex repeated. Did Michael honestly think _that_ was what had bothered him about the kiss? “It’s all right,” he said, his voice hollow to his own ears.

“And what I said today –”

“Michael,” Alex shut his eyes. “I behaved childishly. Leaving like that, so abrupt. How terribly impolite.”

“ _Impolite_?” Michael laughed, and Alex was surprised that it was not cruel or mocking, but a genuine laugh. His heart soared at the beautiful sound. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed it. “Of course, you’d be worried about that. Not to fear though,” he said, taking the couch opposite Alex, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded. “I told them you had promised to check on the children in the morning, acquaint them of your person, for you are to be staying these few weeks. When you’d forgotten, you panicked, and came here.”

Michael heaved a groan. “If it’s possible, they love you even more now.” He did not look at Alex as he said this. “It’s as if you could do no wrong in their eyes.”

Alex hugged himself, his fingers pressing tightly into his arms. “But you know better?”

Michael raised a brow. “Would you like me to pretend you _hadn’t_ left me?”

Alex watched him. He was so beautiful, it pained Alex to be so far away from him. He wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but not as he had yesterday. He wanted it to mean something to both him _and_ Michael. He wanted Michael to want it, though that would never happen again. Alex himself had made sure of it long ago.

“I want you not to hate me,” Alex confessed in a whisper, and Michael looked up at him. A fear overwhelmed Alex as those beautiful eyes fell on his, a desire to hide, but at the same time, he could not think of anything he wanted to do less.

Michael smirked, though it was small, and did not hold the venom Alex might have expected. “Is that what keeps you awake at night, when you’ve told everyone that you’re sleeping well? The fear that I may hate you?”

Alex’s eyes fell away. So Michael _had_ noticed. He didn’t know whether that pleased him, or made him feel worse.

“No, I didn’t…” Michael trailed off with a sigh, rubbing his face. ”You haven’t been sleeping, I was simply…”

“Worried?” Alex asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Curious,” Michael said with a clear of his throat. “Not about lying, you’ve always said you were well when you weren’t. But there lies the question, doesn’t it? Why are you unwell?”

Alex swallowed. “I cannot say.”

“Because it’s me?” When Alex said nothing, Michael said, “Do you really fear my opinion so much?”

_I love you_ , Alex wanted to say. _All that matters to me is your opinion._

“Would you say we parted amiably?” Alex barely asked before Michael answered. “No.”

Alex swallowed and said, “Then perhaps you could say I feel guilt for the way I had left things. You… you were the last person I ever wanted to hurt. And yet you are the one I have hurt most. Michael, I –” he shook his head. “I cannot bear it if you hate me.”

Michael stared out the window for the longest time, then said, “I was going to marry you. I was going to tell my family of how terribly I loved you, how I would take no one else.” He looked at Alex with wet eyes. “I could not hate you, Alex, not even if I wanted to.”

Alex was not going to cry, he decided, even though every word from Michael felt like a knife wound to his heart. “Do you want to?”

Michael sighed, wiping at his face roughly with his hand before he sniffed. “Yes.”

It was days later when Alex was surprised again. Alex had not expected the sleepless morning to be greeted by a woman’s scream. He scrambled out of bed, nearly fell at the foot of it with the pain in his leg, and pushed past it, throwing a coat over his nightwear.

“Liz? Isobel?” he asked as he hurried downstairs, but was not prepared for the scene before him. _“Maria_?”

Liz, Isobel, and Maria all grinned up at him. Maria wore her best mauve dress, accompanied with golden earrings, rings, and a bright gold pendant. She had her hands on her hips and was smirking at Alex playfully. The expression quickly turned to shock as she spotted someone over Alex’s shoulder.

Alex followed her gaze and saw Michael, staring at her with as much shock and disdain. “ _You_.”

“Er,” Alex tried, “Michael –”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Michael asked as Max came down beside him.

“I’m here to see Alex,” Maria said coldly. “Now, _move_ out of his way, please.”

Michael seemed to realize in that moment that he had come to stand in front of Alex, keeping him from Maria’s view. His cheeks and ears red, he moved aside with a glance at Alex, and went back up the stairs past his brother, fuming.

“Er – sorry, Maria,” Max said with a nervous laugh. “He’s in a bad mood most mornings.”

Isobel hooked her arm around Maria’s, glaring at her brother’s back. “Well, that’s no excuse to talk such a way to Maria.”

“Don’t worry,” Maria said darkly, making her way towards Alex. “I expected nothing less.” She reached a hand out to him. “Come, my friend. You look exhausted. I’ve brought breakfast in from the town. Let’s eat together.”

“Er – yes,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder at where Michael had been standing. “Yes, Maria, let me just get dressed.”

Maria looked hesitant to let him out of her sight, but as Isobel and Liz insisted she let them show her around the manor, she was led away and Alex was left on the staircase with a confused Max.

“I should,” he pointed to the corridor, “go get…”

“Are you all right?” Max asked with a strange look in his eyes as he searched Alex’s face.

Alex blinked. “What do you mean?”

Max seemed to realize he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted, and he shook his head, smiling kindly. “Never you mind. Go on, get dressed, Liz alone hates to wait. I cannot imagine the combined forces of her and Maria both.”

Alex held his closed fist to his chest as he stood in front of Michael’s door. The past few days had been oddly civilized between them, with Alex helping to keep Aden and Lilian focused, proper, and calm while also managing Liz’s fears that her fever was turning stronger by night, even though she seemed to have no real loss of appetite or energy.

In all that time, Michael had not spoken a word against him, but had not spoken much of a word _to_ him either. There was the occasional good morning, the occasional “could you hand me the butter, please?” the occasional “good evening,” and that was all.

In honesty, Alex had no way of knowing whether asking Michael if he was all right, _now_ of all times, would be welcomed. He just decided it might not be and turned away from the door when it suddenly opened and Michael walked right into him.

Alex gasped and stumbled, but was caught and held steady with an arm around his waist. Alex’s eyes were wide, his breath held as Michael’s chest pressed to his back, his arm unmoving. Alex felt Michael’s warm breath against the nape of his neck, the shell of his ear, and his eyes fluttered. He forced himself out of it.

“Are,” Michael breathed against his ear, “are you all right?”

Alex swallowed and nodded slowly. Michael held onto him. Alex felt the man’s heartbeat against his back, the familiar shock going through his body. Then Michael released him, and he felt himself fall back to earth.

“S-sorry,” Alex mumbled, turning around to face Michael. He was staring at Alex’s lips which was quite distracting. “I – I only wanted to… well… would you like to come have breakfast with us?”

Michael scoffed bitterly. “I don’t think Maria is my biggest admirer, Alex.”

“If you’d give her a chance –”

“Did she give me one?” Michael growled, and Alex said nothing. “I will not go anywhere near that woman, not after what she’s done, Alex, you cannot ask me to.”

He moved past Alex, and before he could stop himself, Alex took hold of his arm with both hands. Whether he’d been so desperate to keep Michael from getting angry at him again, or to keep him as close as possible, Alex did not know, but as soon as Michael faced him, he let go.

“I am simply asking you to come have breakfast with me… as – as my friend.”

Michael searched his face. “Your _friend_.” He smirked. “ _Your_ friend will not be very happy to see me.”

Alex knew that. He knew Maria would not be pleased to see Michael, to know that Alex had invited him down to eat with them. She was the only one that knew the true reason why Alex had left Michael behind all those years ago, she was the one who had persuaded him to leave at all when he had wanted nothing more than to stay.

_She’s helped save you, Michael_ , Alex almost said, the words on his tongue, but refusing to go past his lips. _She helped keep as apart from one another. You will never know all she’s done for us both._

“Do as you like,” Alex said finally, and turned back to his own room where he walked in, and all but fell against the wall. He could still feel Michael’s hands on him, Michael’s chest against his back, Michael’s heart – had it been racing? Or had that been that Alex’s own heart thrashing violently? Michael’s breath against his skin, Michael scent of earth and tea. As Alex dressed, he wondered, not for the first time, if there would ever come a day where Michael was not at the front of his mind.

“I didn’t know Michael was here,” Maria said quietly to Alex almost the moment he sat down. Liz was feeling exceptionally well – so long as you did not comment on the fact, for she so despised others noting her good health – and Isobel had gone to the kitchens to personally prepare the best refreshments to be had with the pastries Maria had brought.

Alex now dug his fork calmly into the flaky, buttery bread, pretending to be more interest in his food than Maria’s concern. “Hm? Oh yes, Michael is here. I’d almost forgotten.”

Maria, it seemed, would not let this go so easily. “You did not send word of this to me. _Why_?”

“There was no need for it,” Alex said. “It’s not as if we are engaged to be married, we’ve barely spoken to each other in the time I’ve been here.”

“Don’t lie to me, Alex,” Maria said fiercely, taking hold of him arm. “If you are hurt again, I….”

“I know,” Alex said kindly, covering her hand with his own. “I _know_. Trust me, after everything I’ve done to him… he does not love me. He couldn’t. I’m certain of that.”

“Well,” they heard, and Alex stilled. He resisted turning around to greet the newcomer. “This is cozy, isn’t it?”

“Oh Michael,” Isobel said with a raised brow as she came out with a pitcher of icy lemonade in her hands. “You’ve decided to join us after all. _Move_ , _I’m_ sitting by Maria.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Michael muttered darkly as he took the seat beside Alex. Alex tried not to notice that there were two spares next to Isobel that he could’ve taken, leaving Liz and Max between them, and chose not to.

“ _Petite Duchesse_ ,” Michael noted, grabbing the éclair with a stab of his fork and unceremoniously dumping it onto his plate. “Ever the classy lady, aren’t you, Maria?”

“Ever the insufferable, aren’t _you_ , Michael?” Maria returned, for she, it seemed, had also noticed that Michael had purposely taken the chair beside Alex.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Michael said. “I was invited to breakfast.”

“Were you?” Maria asked, unimpressed, with a glance at Alex.

“Good morning, all!” Max said as he and Liz – who had evidently been waiting for her husband – came and sat beside them. “Maria, these éclairs look marvelous!”

“Anything for you, Max,” Maria said with a sweet smile that turned sour the moment her eyes went back to Michael. Alex felt the protective instinct to block Michael from her view, to defend him, as he always used to. But he resisted. He didn’t think breakfast was quite the time to start a riot.

“How long will you be staying in Paris?” Liz asked.

Maria glanced at Isobel before she moved closer to Alex, and hooked her arm around his. “Oh a while. I plan to keep an eye on Alex, keep him company. He cannot bear it without me, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Michael said with the same sweet smile. “He’s seemed fine without you these past few days. Wonderful, even.”

Then Michael did something Alex could not have expected. He brought his hand up to Alex’s face and gently touched the back of his fingers to Alex’s cheeks. Alex gasped softly at Michael’s soft touch.

“He was so pale when he arrived. Look at him now, so well-rested.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. He might’ve pointed out that he actually was not well-rested in the slightest as he had rarely slept these past few days, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was lost to everything but Michael’s skin against his, Michael sitting so closely to him, Michael, Michael, _Michael_ –

The pitcher was suddenly pushed off the table, and everyone stood, panicked at the cold, moving the food off the table. Alex was roughly pulled out of his thoughts, but he realized Michael’s hand was tight on his wrist.

“Oh I’m so dreadfully _sorry_ , my dear Isobel!” Maria bemoaned. “I – I didn’t mean to, please forgive me!”

“That’s all right, Maria!” Isobel said comfortingly. “I’ll go call the servants, never you mind!”

“And Max and Liz!” Maria continued grievously. “Your clothes, they’re all just ruined!”

“Fabric, nothing more!” Max reassured her, while Liz fanned herself, panicking.

“Oh my,” she said. “I must change at once! My fever could get much worse if I stay in these drenched clothes!”

Max looked like he wanted to argue that Liz was not really drenched, though he seemed to think better of it, and nodded along. “All right, my darling, let us get changed.”

“I will return,” Isobel said to Maria.

“I will help you, Isobel,” Alex started to say, but Maria put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“Alex,” she said through grit teeth, “you _stay_.”

Michael seemed to realize this and was sitting back down himself. “Then I’m staying as well.”

Maria scoffed. “If you think I’m going to watch my words around you, you’re out of your mind.”

“Maria –” Alex tried, but Maria was already glaring.

“Don’t you _‘Maria’_ me,” she said when everyone had moved out of earshot. “Do you honestly not see that the only reason he’s being so affectionate with you is to spite _me_?”

Michael smirked darkly. “You think I’d _use_ Alex?”

“I do,” Maria said without a moment’s hesitation. “Because you’ve always been petty, Michael. You’ve always been resentful of that which you could not have, like a little boy crying over losing his favorite toy.”

“Maria,” Alex said quietly. “Please stop it.”

“You’d better listen to him,” Michael growled, the smirk long fallen from his face.

Maria puffed up her chest and looked to Alex. “This is why I never wanted you to come to Paris, to even _risk_ running into him.”

“Oh yes, and Alex always does as you command, doesn’t he?”

Maria looked disgusted. “And he claimed to _love_ you. Look at the way he speaks to you now! He never cared about you, Alex, not as I always have, and you _deserve_ someone who cares as much as I do.”

“I _cared_ about him.”

“Clearly, by the way you left Paris the moment you were turned away. You never bothered to understand what was happening, you never questioned it. You wanted him, he said no, and you got angry. I warned you before, and I’m warning you now, Alex, he will only do to you what he always does.”

Alex saw that Michael’s knuckles beneath the table had turned white, his jaw was clenched so roughly Alex feared he might draw blood, and his eyes so focused on Maria, Alex thought she might burst into flame at any moment.

“And what’s that, hm?” he asked. “What is it that I _always_ do?”

Maria held his gaze steadily, unafraid as always. “Disappoint him.”

“Enough,” Alex whispered, but firmly enough that the two fell silent. “Enough of this, I can’t… I don’t want to hear it anymore. The past is the past, can we just –” he huffed and stood, unable to take it anymore, “can we please just let it bloody die?”

That night, as Alex lay awake in bed, he thought of Maria’s words. He had known, of course, that Michael touching him had been to anger her, but with the man he loved so close, Alex could never bring himself to care _why_ Michael was near him, only that he was near him.

_He will only do to you what he always does._

Alex had never spoken of that; the disappointment that had threatened to suffocate him, that made the grief all the harder to bear, when he realized Michael would never know _why_ Alex had left him.

Alex shook his head. It was unfair to ever expect Michael to wonder such a thing. Alex had a dull, constant ache in his leg to remind him of that. He had broken Michael’s heart. Who was he to be disappointed?

There was, as there had been the first night, a soft knock at the door. Alex waited to hear it again, wondering if he had imagined it. He hadn’t. The knock came once more, and Alex sat up, his brows furrowed. Could it have been Maria? No, certainly not, for she had her own flat in Paris. Liz then? Or Isobel?

Alex slid out of bed, biting back a groan at the pain in his leg now, and threw a coat over his shoulders. He answered the door to find none other than _Michael_.

Alex said nothing, staring with wide eyes at the last person he had expected to see on the other side of his door in the middle of the night.

“I couldn’t sleep,” was all Michael said as he leaned against the doorframe, exhausted. Had he always looked that tired? Had Alex failed to notice?

Alex nodded wordlessly after a moment, then stepped back to allow Michael in. The man tapped the back of the armchair beside the fireplace – the only source of light in the dark room – and made his way to Alex’s bed instead. He sat at the end of it and fell back with a groan. Alex regarded him carefully before he came to the head of his bed and sat against the pillows, his legs pulled up to his chest.

“How’d you know I’d be awake?” Alex asked, the silence having nearly overwhelmed him.

“You’re always awake,” Michael said, staring thoughtfully into the fireplace. Then, “You don’t believe her, do you?”

“Believe who?” replied Alex, though he knew exactly who Michael was talking about.

“Maria,” Michael said. “You don’t believe I would… that I’d actually….”

“Take advantage of me to anger her?” Alex gave a small smile. “Of course I do.”

Michael’s eyes snapped to him, and Alex couldn’t help it; he laughed. “You were always more affectionate with me around her. Habit of years, I expect.”

Michael searched his face. His voice when he spoke next was softer than Alex could’ve expected. “You’re not angry with me?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “You’ve always hated her. It was certainly exasperating at times, but never angering.”

“Of course I hated her,” Michael snapped, sitting up at once. “She always kept telling me that I didn’t deserve you, _every chance_ she got!”

Alex had his chin on his knees. “Did she?”

“Yes, and I’d always thought it myself, I didn’t need her confirmation!”

Alex stared, but Michael fell onto his back again, his attention returned to the fireplace. Alex, noticed, however, that he was staring rather hard at it.

“I always feared the same thing, you know,” Alex quietly confessed after what felt like an eternity. “That you were too good for me, and you’d soon realize that, and… and leave.”

Michael said nothing for a long time, and Alex thought he may have already gone to sleep, but then he heard a soft scoff – so quiet that he almost missed it – and Michael said, “Ironic, then, the way things turned out, wasn’t it?”

Alex frowned. “Michael, I never left you because I thought you were beneath me.”

Michael turned to look at him, and Alex realized there was no humor whatsoever in his face. “Then why did you?”

_I left to protect you. I left because I loved you, even then, more than you could ever imagine. I left you because it would’ve killed me if anything had happened to you._

Alex blinked, a lump in his throat, his thoughts an utter mess. “Why did I what?”

Michael’s grim expression slowly turned to amusement and he sat up. “All right,” he said with a sigh, “you are clearly exhausted beyond proper function. Get to sleep for now.”

“No, I,” Alex took his hand to keep him from leaving, though Michael had made no move to go. “You – you asked me, and I… I just can’t… I can’t tell you because… goodness, am I crying?”

“You are,” Michael said softly, pressing a kiss to Alex’s fingers on his hand before he released himself from Alex’s hold. Alex feared he might leave then, but Michael took Alex’s face in his hands, and brushed away Alex’s tears with his thumbs. “You have not slept, and now you lay in a comfortable bed, and still cannot sleep. Your body and mind are in agony.”

_Not as much agony as my heart, for it feels as if it is bleeding with every kiss from your lips, every soft word from your tongue, every warm gaze from your beautiful eyes._

“I can’t,” Alex covered Michael’s hands with his own, a sob escaping his lips, “I can’t seem to stop crying, Michael.”

“I know,” Michael said comfortingly, and Alex could have sworn he heard Michael finish with _‘my love,’_ but that was impossible, wasn’t it? Michael would not say that to him now, for Michael no longer loved him.

“I’m so tired,” Alex mumbled through his tears as Michael came to sit beside him, no amount of space between their bodies. “I’m so very tired.”

Michael led Alex’s head onto his shoulder, and Alex might’ve been shocked if the overwhelming exhaustion wasn’t threatening to kill him. He reached out, holding onto Michael’s sleeve, taking comfort in it between his fingers as he quickly drifted away, swallowed into a soothing darkness that did not at all frighten him.

When Alex woke, he realized two things very quickly. The first was that he had slept a better sleep than he had in _months_. For once he felt himself able to properly see the world around him, able to stretch comfortably in bed. Which led to his second realization; he was not alone in the bed.

Alex gasped, then slapped a hand over his mouth. There he was, with one arm under Alex’s head and the other around his waist, was Michael. Alex took a moment to remember last night’s events; Michael coming into his room, Alex overcome with exhaustion, falling asleep with his head on Michael’s shoulder. Then Alex took another moment to be mortified with himself.

How could he have been so foolish, so improper, so –

Michael suddenly shifted in his sleep, his arm around Alex’s waist tightening and pulling him closer until their foreheads were pressed together. And Alex lost all coherent thought.

Suddenly, the events of the previous night didn’t matter at all in this moment. All that mattered was that Michael was here with him, in his bed, the two closer than Alex ever thought they would be again.

Alex slowly brought his hand down from his mouth, his eyes fluttering at the way Michael’s breath fanned his lips. He reached up, touching Michael’s jaw so lightly he may not have been touching him at all. Michael didn’t have stubble the last Alex had seen him. He had always shaved it, despite Alex’s protests. The hair scratched Alex’s fingers now and made his eyes burn. So many years apart, and Alex still felt himself unable to breathe from a single touch from Michael.

“I would do anything,” Alex whispered, “ _anything_ to keep you.” He tilted his head up, his lips hovering just below Michael’s. “My Michael… won’t you love me again?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s eyes widened. _Maria_.

“Are you awake yet?”

“Oh dear god,” Alex muttered and sat up, out of Michael’s hold. He shook him awake, whispering frantically. “Oh Michael, please do wake up!”

“Hmm?” Michael’s eyes fluttered opened, and for just a moment, Alex was caught in the beautiful gold specs dancing across the deep tea color. “Alex?”

“Michael,” he breathed, and Michael’s lips tugged into a smile.

“ _Alex_ ,” Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, seeming confused as to how Alex could’ve escaped him at all, and pulled him back down to him. “Oh Alex,” he whispered, nuzzling his cheek, his jaw.

Alex’s hands tightened to fists in Michael’s shirt, and he wanted, he wanted, he _wanted_ more than anything to move closer to Michael, to feel his kiss, his touch, his naked skin.

Then –

“Alex, you best be awake!” Maria scolded, and the two froze against one another. “It is very improper to still be in bed at _this_ time of the morning!”

“That woman,” Michael said through grit teeth. “Who keeps letting her in?”

Maria paused a moment, then, “Alex? Is someone in there with you?”

Alex covered Michael’s mouth with his hand before he could respond. “Give me a moment, Maria! I – I’m undressed.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, his eyes questioning as Alex moved away from him on the bed, urging him to follow.

“I see,” she said, and even with her voice muffled, Alex knew she did not completely believe him. “Well, hurry up, won’t you? Isobel’s taking us for a walk around town. Best not to keep her waiting.”

“Absolutely right,” Alex said as he led Michael off the bed and onto the balcony outside his window.

“And don’t worry,” she added as if it were an afterthought. “That _man_ won’t be coming with us. He’s not answering his door, I expect he’s been drinking all night and all the world’s forces won’t be enough to wake him now.”

Michael actually looked like he might blast the doors apart, but as he made his way to them, Alex grabbed his arm, and turned him around and against him. Michael barely had the time to look shocked before Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and kissed him deeply.

Michael muttered something barely over a whisper against his lips. Alex pulled away only to be pushed against the wall and kissed senseless. Michael’s lips were rough against his, but not as rough as they had been in the sitting room all those days ago. His hands on his waist and jaw were gentle, pulling him closer and closer, as if Michael could not be satisfied unless they were out of breath against each other’s lips.

Alex gasped as Michael slid a hand beneath his shirt, his fingers against Alex’s stomach. He groaned as he forced himself away. “Trust me,” he said. “Please, trust me. She _cannot_ see you in here now. Not like this.”

“But –”

“I promise you, everything will be explained, _everything_ ,” Alex said and pressed another desperate kiss to Michael’s lips, certain that if he were to stop, he would suffocate and fall apart. “For now, trust me. Please, Michael.”

Michael followed Alex’s lips as he spoke, and finally made an impatient sound at the back of his throat before he pulled Alex in for another kiss.

“The things I do for you,” he whispered against Alex’s lips before he opened the windows and in one jump, was out on the balcony, completely hidden from view. Alex kept the windows open, and went to open the door, his coat already on.

“Hello,” he said breathlessly to an impatient Maria. “I mean – good morning.”

Maria stepped inside, looking around as if expecting someone to be hiding under the bedsheets. Alex cast a nervous glance at the windows as Maria opened his closet, moving the coats aside.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked.

Maria, instead of answering, huffed, her hands on her hips. “You’re not _dressed_ yet? I told you Isobel was waiting for us, and –” she blinked. “What’s wrong with you?”

Alex blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You seem exceptionally happy this morning,” she noted.

“Do I?” Alex hadn’t realized it, but he’d been smiling uncontrollably since opening the door. “It’s just a nice day, I suppose. Enough to make anyone happy.”

Maria hummed, her lips slowly turning to a smile. “Well, how can I not be happy when my dearest friend is so overjoyed? That’s enough for me.” She kissed his cheek, and made her way to the door. “Just remember to –”

“ _Ah_!” Maria’s words cut off as Alex fell to the floor behind her, clutching his leg tightly.

“Alex?” she gasped, kneeling beside him. He was aware of her hands on his shoulder and hip, asking if he was all right. He clenched his jaw, keeping himself from screaming out.

“It’s all right,” he grit out. “I’m all right. It happens. I’m… I’m all right now.”

He breathed heavily against her chest, though she refused to let him go, her arms tight around him.

“I knew it,” she said darkly, holding him tighter still. “I knew being around _him_ would only hurt you more. You’ve been so exhausted because of him.”

“It’s not because of him,” Alex said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. Maria held onto his arm, keeping him steady. She led him to the bed to sit down.

“Oh Alex, _please_ ,” she urged. “Stop protecting him, that’s all you’ve ever done, and look where it’s led you! Your father would never have attacked you if –”

“Maria!” Alex pleaded, not wanting Michael – who he was sure was listening intently – to hear him now.

Maria pressed her lips together. “I know…” she started slowly, softly, “that you hate to hear this. I know you’ve always hated hearing it, but leaving him really was – it was the best thing you could’ve done for the both of you. I wish I could change who Jesse Manes was, but I cannot. I wish I can turn back time and give him to you, but I cannot. The only solution is to keep moving forward, Alex. You are not without love. You really don’t need him.”

 _Yes, I do._ Alex wanted to say, but the first person to hear those words had to be Michael, not Maria. Not anyone else.

“I will be down shortly,” Alex finally managed to say when the pain had receded. “Go on ahead of me. _I will come_ , Maria.”

Maria looked concerned, but at the insistence in Alex’s voice, nodded reluctantly. “I will – I’ll wait for you in the entrance hall. I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”

“I know you’ll be,” was all Alex said before Maria turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Michael came in from the balcony, his face grim, his eyes dark.

“Michael,” Alex moved to stand. “I’m – I’m sorry, are you all right? Was it terribly cold out there –”

“Did Jesse hurt you because of me?” Michael asked, and Alex’s words were cut off. “Is that why you limp, did he do something to your leg?”

Alex realized he was holding onto the bedpost, and forced himself to let go. Then not to wince. “I – Michael, that wasn’t –”

“ _What did he do, Alex_?” he growled, his eyes shut as if unwilling to take any more lies.

Alex’s eyes burned and he looked away. When he spoke, he was quiet, “He beat me with a chair.”

Michael looked up, appalled. He whispered, “He _what_?”

Alex sighed and sat down, the weight of the confession too heavy to bear. “A bone broke, and it… never quite mended properly. He told me he could just as easily do the same to you.”

Michael looked at Alex’s leg as if wondering how he could never see the injury, which was silly because Alex _looked_ perfectly all right. Even if he felt the exact opposite.

“Unless you leave me,” Michael finished, realization dawning alongside misery, and Alex could only nod once.

“I was young,” Alex tried desperately, “and _terrified_ of him. Maria had – she warned me that if my father found out about us, he would kill us both. I did not believe her until the threat came from his own lips. For years, Michael, he’s kept me chained to him. It was only through Liz’s letter now, and through courage that had come far too late, that I was able to leave.” He shook his head. “You must be so disappointed in me.”

Michael said nothing for a moment, and Alex feared he would suddenly disappear. If he would leave in disgust at Alex’s cowardice, at his unwillingness to have told Michael the truth from the beginning. Alex did not think he could bear it.

Then Michael suddenly fell to his knees in front of Alex, clutching Alex’s hips tightly, his head on Alex’s lap.

“Could you ever forgive me?” Michael pleaded in a whisper, tears painting his deep-gold lashes.

Alex frowned. “What… what are you talking about?”

“I never asked you,” Michael said. “I never questioned it, I just… let you leave. I should’ve had more faith in you, more faith in our love. I just left you alone with that – that _monster_.”

“No,” Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, bringing his gaze up to hold it. “No, you mustn’t say that, Michael, you must never say that. I did not tell you, I gave you no reason to believe I was afraid. I was cold, and cruel –”

Michael shook his head, wrapping his arms around Alex’s hips. “All this time wasted. All this time apart. If I had stayed. If I had stayed, and taken you from him –”

“Don’t speak of such things,” Alex pleaded. “There is no use in speaking of such possibilities. We were young, not with the knowledge and strength we have now.”

Michael’s fingers dug into Alex’s skin through his clothes. “I have had _no_ strength without you. I have been reduced to a dark storm, driven by your memory to do more harm than good. How ashamed you must be of me.”

Alex held Michael’s face against his own, their foreheads pressed so roughly together, and Alex wanted nothing more in that moment than to lean forward and take Michael’s lips in his own. Michael beat him to it, and closed the distance between them, kissing Alex fiercely.

“Let me touch you,” Michael pleaded, and Alex was only too happy to allow it. He pushed back his coat, then began pushing Michael’s own off his shoulders as Michael put his hands up Alex’s shirt.

They moved back on the bed, and Michael wasted no time in kissing Alex into the pillows. It felt as it had before, as it always did, to feel Michael’s skin against his own. Michael’s naked chest, his stomach, his cock all against Alex, desperate and heated and yearning. Alex tasted salt on his tongue as he kissed Michael’s cheek, and realized it was tears he tasted, though whether it was Michael’s or his own, he hadn’t a clue.

Michael did not hide their bodies with the blanket, and Alex reached down to pull him in deeper, urging him to thrust harder. The two breathed one another’s names so often against each other’s lips, Alex wondered if he would ever have the strength to say any other name. Michael scratched down his back, clinging to him as if terrified he would vanish. Alex could only hold him back just as tightly, fearing the same.

When he woke, it was noon, the blanket was pulled up to hide his naked chest, and he was alone.

Alex rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly as he felt the cold, empty space beside him. Alex stared at it a moment, his brows furrowed. Had Michael left because he regretted what they had done? Was he ashamed by Alex’s eagerness? Had it been improper of him? Or did Michael realize Alex _had_ been a coward after all? Or had their lying together merely been a last, passionate goodbye?

Alex put his hand to his chest, trying not to panic at the thought. It was very reasonable to assume that Michael had wanted them to lie together just once more, after finally knowing the truth.

Then Alex’s eyes caught something on the nightstand beside the bed, and his thoughts turned silent. There they were, a bundle of them, wrapped in a long piece of thread – a collection of letters. At the very top, the first letter read in black ink; _My Alex_.

Alex pulled the thread away, and saw that all the letters were addressed to him. All in Michael’s handwriting.

As the sun shined brightly through the open window, the birds chirped outside, and the leaves rustled in the wind, Alex opened the first letter with trembling fingers. He gasped. It was dated back eight years ago, merely a day after he and Michael had parted, for Alex knew the day all too well. It had been the worst of his life.

_My Alex,_

_Tell me this is a nightmare, tell me it is not true. Tell me you have not abandoned our love. Tell me, my beauty, that you will come to wake me at any moment, and I will wake in your arms, privileged to your smile and the gleam of your eyes. Tell me I have not lost you._

_Michael._

Alex’s eyes burned as he opened the next letter.

_My Alex,_

_How could you? How could you do it? It has been weeks, and I still cannot remember that you have left me. Is it because I have so little money? I would’ve worked tirelessly for you. I was going to be Captain. I_ am _going to be Captain. I will come back for you, and you will see what a success I have become, and you will be proud of your, forever,_

_Michael._

The next letter.

_My Alex,_

_I am driven mad every day by the thought of you. I wish I could despise you, but I cannot manage it. I wish I could forget you, but that is harder still. I hate you. I hate you for having taken my heart with you, I hate you for refusing to give it back. Three years later, and I repeat these words to myself in the hopes that they will one day be true._

_Michael._

_My Alex,_

_Do you remember the constellations I taught you? I see them every night on this ship, and I think of you. You, my love, my beauty. How I wish you were here to lie with me. I would kiss you under the stars, and name the constellations for you. How blessed they would be, to carry your name. How I wish you would take mine. You had once yearned to take my name. Now I can only think of the cold in your eyes at the idea of it. Do you still feel the same? Do you still believe we would suffocate with the differences between us? For I am fire, I know, and you are ice. Or do you miss me, my Alex, as I miss you?_

_Michael._

Alex read through them, unaware of anything else but the words on the pages, the only sound the blood rushing in his ears, the only feeling his heart thrashing so painfully in his chest. Michael had never hated him. Michael had _missed_ him. Alex finally came across the last letter, and was surprised to see the date for today, the words sprawled hastily against the page.

_My beautiful Alex,_

_Words cannot describe what the brush of your skin, your lips against mine, after all these years, has done to me, so I will not attempt it. You are beautiful, you are magic. You are the one my heart has yearned for after all these years, the one it continues to beat for, the_ only _one it could ever beat for. I love you with a fire that seems to never die or dim, but strengthen. If I must face the world to keep you by my side, then I shall. If you still love me, as I love you, then tell me. Tell me it is not too late for us to be together, for me to do as I had always dreamed of doing, and marry you. Tell me you will be mine._

_Your Michael._

Alex let the letter fall onto his bed, threw a shirt, trousers, and a coat on before hastily grabbing all the parchments, and running downstairs, ignoring the pain in his leg. It meant nothing now, not with the eagerness of seeing his love.

“Max!” he called when he found the man standing at the foot of the long staircase. Liz and Isobel, who had been having a serious conversation with him, looked up.

“Alex, where have you _been_?” Liz asked nervously. “Asleep all this time? You’re not ill, are you? Because I read that drowsiness –”

“No, my darling, no, I – I am not ill,” Alex asked, running down the stairs. “ _Max_ , where’s Michael?”

Max searched his face a moment before a smile broke his lips. He sighed, content. “ _Finally_. I really feared I would have to lock you two in a room. He’s out in the gardens.”

Alex did not have the willingness to ask if Max had known of Alex and Michael’s relationship since the beginning, too excited to find Michael.

He hurried out the doors, down the front steps, and nearly stumbled as he made his way onto the fields.

There she was, not Michael, but _Maria_ , standing against the wall, her parasol in hand, her eyes staring off into the distance, thoughtful.

“Maria,” he breathed. “Where – where is he?”

Maria did not seem startled to see Alex so out of breath, nor did she seem curious to who _he_ was.

When she looked back at Alex, her eyes were glassy. “Alex. My Alex. Are you _sure_?”

It then occurred to Alex that Maria might have known Michael had been in Alex’s room, that what she had said had been for Michael to hear, as well as for Alex. Now, it seemed, she knew they were not going to give up. That they would never stop fighting for each other.

Maria eventually heaved a deep sigh and straightened her shoulders. “ _Well_ , I think Isobel and I have waited long enough for that trip through Paris. We’ll be going now.”

She held her head high, shrugging one shoulder, gesturing at the fountain in the gardens where a man sat on the stones beside the crystal water.

Alex felt Maria take his hand tightly before she went up the stairs. He took a deep breath, and made his way towards Michael, the letters clutched tightly in one hand.

Michael saw him and stood. There was no sound but that of the water and the leaves and birds, but Alex could almost hardly hear _that_ for his heart beat so loudly in his ears that he feared Michael might hear it as well.

Michael’s eyes fell to the letters, and at the sight of his fear, his _doubt_ , Alex let them fall to the ground, fluttering like feathers at their feet. Michael’s hopeful expression fell for only a split second before Alex used his now free hands to hold Michael’s face, and kiss him.

Michael made a startled noise against Alex’s lips for only a short moment before he wrapped his arms around Alex’s body and nearly lifted him off the ground. Michael tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He kissed Alex even as the birds watched, even as their hearts pounded painfully against one another’s chests, nearly turning to one, even as they both lost breath, eager to touch one another wherever they could reach.

“I am, have been, and will always be,” Alex whispered against Michael’s lips, ” _yours_.”

“Mine,” Michael said, and pulled him back in, smiling widely against his lips, as if his soul had finally returned to him.

They were brought back into one another, as if they had never separated at all, yet each holding the wisdom that could not but come from years of suffering such heartache as they had suffered. Their love would not fade like ink on parchment, but would hold steady, Alex was certain, like the fountain of an angel, watching as another pair of lovers stood at the end of its bow and arrow.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://pastelwitchling.tumblr.com/)


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